Nice Girls(16)

“We need to leave, Jayden,” said the girl.

“I know, but—”

“You guys can crash at my place,” said Dwayne. “My birthday gift to you, man.”

Jayden nodded. But even as the girl tugged at his arm, he squatted down next to White Shirt’s body. He gently patted the guy’s cheek.

“Just a cute little warning,” muttered Jayden. “Don’t try that shit again.”



Dwayne made me drive. As soon as we stepped outside, he tossed me the keys. He told me that if I drove, we wouldn’t be pulled over.

My hands were shaking on the wheel as I pulled us out of the parking lot, Dwayne in the passenger’s seat while Jayden and the girl, Charice, hid in the back. Through the rearview mirror, I could see Jayden curled down in his seat, as if he were trying to melt off it. Charice held his hand, staring out the window.

No one said anything in the car. We were too afraid to even turn on the radio, as if the noise would jinx us. I could hear the wailing of sirens nearby in the neighborhood.

“Mary,” said Dwayne calmly, “you’re driving a little slow. Just drive like you usually do.”

I gripped my shaking hands even tighter on the wheel and focused on the road, trying to keep the car centered in the lane. I pretended that we were on a roller coaster track. Blue and red lights flashed down the road. A cop car was driving toward us in the other lane. Heading for the apartment.

“No one fucking look,” hissed Jayden.

I was driving thirty on a residential road, my foot straining against the accelerator. We were passing the police car now, its interior light glowing yellow. As we passed each other, I looked out my window at the cop car—I couldn’t help it, with the adrenaline running through me. The officer was staring back through his open window, his face stony.

We were so close that I could see a light blond buzz cut and a pair of watery blue eyes.

I recognized that police officer. We’d grown up together, trapped in the same classes each year from childhood to adolescence. I still hated him.

Kevin Obermueller.

I shuddered when the police car disappeared behind us. Then another one sped by, followed by an ambulance. When their lights had all but disappeared in the distance, I felt myself gulping for air.

“Well, thank God,” murmured Jayden.

“You got lucky tonight, baby,” said Charice.

“If it’s my damn birthday, I better be,” said Jayden. He chuckled, his voice warm like coffee. It was jarring to know that he’d knocked someone out only a few minutes ago.

“You okay, Mary?” asked Dwayne. He lightly touched my arm. I nodded, but my hands still trembled at the wheel.

“Did you see the cop that passed by us?” I asked quietly.

“The dude in the first car?”

“It was Kevin Obermueller,” I said, glancing over. I couldn’t see Dwayne’s face, but I could hear the pause that lingered between us.

Kevin had been Dwayne’s friend in high school. They sat at the same lunch table and hung out in the mornings together. I saw them messing around all the time. Kevin was a wrestler, but he was an unofficial member of the football team. I remembered their prom pictures online—Dwayne and Kevin in the back of a limo, grinning in their tuxedos. Olivia had been there, too, as everyone posed for a group picture.

But from a distance, the two of them had seemed mismatched, unbalanced. Dwayne was the star athlete. Kevin was simply there. People preferred the handsome, gifted football player, but to reach him, you first had to deal with his unpleasant friend. It was always Kevin who clung onto Dwayne, never the other way around. He was part of a narrative that didn’t need him.

“Yeah, Kevin’s a cop now,” said Dwayne.

“You’ve got a contact with the police, too?” asked Charice.

“Not exactly. We were in the same high school class together.”

Dwayne said nothing else. He made it sound as if they barely knew each other.

“Oh, well,” said Charice. “Maybe my brother knows him. They might have been cadets together or something.”

“Why the hell do we care about any of this?” asked Jayden, snorting. “You guys get too excited for cops and shit. That Kevin dude was after us.”

“He didn’t stop us,” said Dwayne.

“Only because the driver wasn’t Black,” said Jayden. “If she’d looked like any of us, we would’ve been stopped and our asses beat.”

My face burned, the anger making me light-headed. I could hear the bitterness in Jayden’s voice. He made it sound as if I had done something wrong. As if I had given someone a concussion.

But that wasn’t me. I was merely a getaway driver who had been roped into the mess. I hadn’t done anything wrong. Jayden could only blame himself. He was the one who’d started the fight. He was the one who lacked self-control. And whatever was coming, he deserved it. It was inevitable.

“I’m not interested in cops,” said Jayden darkly. “I don’t care if that cop is my cousin’s friend or my girlfriend’s brother. A pig still eats shit.”

“Jayden,” warned Charice, her voice low. Jayden didn’t reply. “Don’t you talk about my brother like that. Felix was the one who warned us about the cops coming. He saved us—you should be kissing his ass.”